The Faded and the Fallen
by Intrepid Inkweaver
Summary: The Seraphim and the Wingless live in relative peace in the Light Realm. Most of the people there don't notice the corruption that has been infecting the Realm around them. The Fallen and the Unknown are taking over the streets. Harold Finch sees everything that is happening, but is powerless to stop it-that is until he manages to raise John Reese from the Lower Realms.
1. Chapter 1

This is my first Alternate Universe story. Do me a favour and leave me some feedback! :) ~II

The Seraphim and the Wingless live in relative peace in the Light Realm. Most of the people there don't notice the corruption that has been infecting the Realm around them. The Fallen and the Unknown are taking over the streets.

Harold Finch sees everything that is happening, but is powerless to stop it-that is until he manages to raise John Reese from the Lower Realms.

Every day is much the same as the next here in this limbo realm. The light here is dull grey, day and night. The world is slowed to an agonizing crawl. Anyone that comes here—whether they Faded or they Fell—eventually gets drained of whatever life was in them. The souls that are here are nothing but shells. Echoes of the people they once were. That's what the Lower Realms do. They devour you whole.

John Reese was a shadow of his former self even before he Faded into limbo. The Grey Realm can take nothing from him because he has nothing to give. He sits, he drinks whatever tasteless stuff that passes for alcohol here and he stares at nothing. He lost everything in Life and he Faded. He doesn't fear Fading further down as most do—as is likely to happen after a while. He does nothing to stop it. What else does he deserve, after all?

* * *

It takes him a while to realize there's someone standing over him. It takes another few seconds to gaze through the haze on his eyes and see that the person in front of him has a sort of golden luminosity to him—he completely lacks the dull grey of the rest of the people here. John slowly raises his eyes to meet those of the luminous stranger. Blue eyes study him from behind wire-rim glasses. Like everything else about this man the eyes are too blue for the Grey realm.

"Hello, Mister Reese," he says and before John can ask him how he knows his name, or what he wants, or why he's here (where he's clearly not meant to be), or react at all, really, the man reaches out and presses a palm to John's chest. There's a feeling like flying (or falling—he's not sure of the difference anymore) and the whisper of wings and then his senses go dark.


	2. Chapter 2

Making the climb back to the Light Realm was much more difficult than going down. Pulling Reese along with him—even though he had tapped into the other man's Power to do it—had not been a pleasant experience. Once he landed, he hadn't been able to stand. He had to wait until he'd regained enough energy to shakily get to his feet and contact his employees to come and move Reese's limp form to the bed. Luckily, neither of his men were the questioning type and merely did as they were asked.

It had taken nearly a year to track Reese down. When Finch had found out that the ex-op was no longer in the Light Realm, he'd nearly given up hope of finding him. He'd kept up his research, though, and had eventually discovered that someone who had Faded could be Raised by a seraph.

Preparations for that endeavor had taken months. It had felt so strange planning something so big without Nathan by his side. Harold was certain that he, like Reese, would have Faded after the so-called "accident" that had claimed Nathan's life and Finch's health if not for the Machine.

Even after finishing his creation, the being had chosen to retain a link to its creator. It was that fuzzy little connection in the back of his mind that had kept him sane through everything that had gone wrong. Unfortunately, his connection to the Machine also caused him no end of frustration and sadness. He could see all the crimes, the corruption and the death in the city and there was so little he could do about it.

The Machine had known he needed someone, though, and had sent him the number of one John Reese. Reese was just the type of person Harold needed to help him manage the numbers—to save them when they needed it and stop them when they had to. He was a powerful and talented seraph of the third order. He had the training from the CIA under his belt, and he had a moral compass that was still in tact and pointing in the right direction—despite the agency's efforts to break it.

Now Finch had finally found him and brought him back to the Light Realm. He sighed and rubbed his eyes. Reese was still unconscious on the bed. The glow of the mark on his chest still showed through his shirt, but even now it was fading. The Mark of the Raised was a curious thing. It marked anyone who had Faded and was Raised from the Lower Realms.

Finch moved into the other room and sat heavily in an arm chair. All he could do for the moment was hope that Reese would be willing to help him.


	3. Chapter 3

When Reese opened his eyes, it was to nearly blinding golden light filtering into the room through a window. Quickly, he threw a charcoal-grey wing over his face. It took him several moments to register the fact that he should not be seeing sunlight at all. There is no sunlight in the Grey Realm. Slowly, he pulled his wing away, squinting through his feathers.

Through the pounding in his head, he studied the room he had no recollection of entering. He had been lying among the covers of a large, luxurious bed, in what appeared to be a very large, very expensive hotel suite. Slowly, he rolled out of bed and wandered over to the window. It looked like New York City, but that was no surprise. Even after he'd Faded to the Grey Realm, he'd never actually left the city.

How in the world had he jumped from one Realm to the next? Because this was definitely Life. He knew it when he felt it.

Something in his reflection in the window caught his eye. There appeared to be something glowing on his chest beneath his shirt. He pulled the fabric up to look and found a mark—shaped a bit like a pair of wings—shining with a soft blue-white light. It was about two inches across and right over his heart. Brow furrowing, he ran his fingers over it. It felt like a collection of little scars.

"I apologize for that, Mr. Reese," said a voice from behind him. Reese spun around, automatically expecting an attack. His eyes widened when he saw the man (a seraph, part of his mind supplied) who had spoken. The memory of his last moments in the Grey Realm came back to him and he touched the glowing scar on his chest again. It was on the same spot that the man had pressed his palm.

"The glow will fade," the man continued, "The scar will remain, though." He didn't move any closer—or at all really, almost as though he were afraid to startle Reese.

"Who are you?" Reese asked with a voice raspy with disuse. He appraised the man in front of him, ready to bolt if necessary. He was short and held himself stiffly as though injured. Behind his thick glasses his eyes were sharp, but tired. Reese could sense that he was a seraph of the second order, but he wasn't very powerful. If push came to shove Reese would have no trouble overpowering him.

The man raised his eyebrows as though acknowledging Reese's appraisal before answering. "You can call me Mr. Finch," he stated simply.

"And how do you know _my_ name?" Reese demanded softly, stepping closer. Finch didn't flinch, he held his ground, and part of Reese admired him for that.

"I know exactly everything about you, Mr. Reese," he replied. "I know about the work you did for the government… And the doubts you came to have about that work. I know that the government and everybody else thinks you're dead. And of course, I knew you were in the Grey Realm. So you see, knowledge is not my problem. Doing something with that knowledge? That's where you'd come in.

Reese narrowed his eyes, wondering where this was going. It would have taken extraordinary resources to know what this man knew; not to mention the amount of preparation it would have taken to Raise someone.

"Mister Reese," Finch continued, "Because of crime and corruption, tragedies happen every day. Like your friend Jessica. You were halfway around the world when she was killed. There was nothing you could have done to save her." At the sound of Jessica's name a stab of anger and grief raged through him and it propelled him across the room to grab Finch by the throat and pin him against the wall.

"What do you know about it?" he growled menacingly.

"It's the truth!" Finch exclaimed, obviously terrified. "You left the government because they lied to you. I never will. I think all you ever wanted to do was protect people!"

Reese could feel the fear coming off the smaller man in waves, but there was honesty there as well, and a blatant desire to do good—to do the right thing. Slowly, Reese released him and dropped onto the couch.

"You're not government," he stated quietly.

"No, I'm not." Reese glanced up at the almost bitter note in Finch's voice to see that the other man was still leaning against the wall. His wings were unfurled—a natural response to stress for a seraph. Part of Reese's mind also noted that they were quite beautiful. The two pairs of wings were cream-coloured with gold on the edges and tipped with black. They were also more graceful than what he'd have imagined the small man to have. The only flaw was in the upper right wing—some of the secondary feathers were completely missing. Reese thought that if he could see the back of the wing, there would be a scar. It had probably happened in the same incident that had caused the limp. Since the wings of a Seraphim were not truly physical—they were part of the Soul—it was extremely difficult to maim them. Even John, whose body was a lattice work of past scars, only had a handful on his wings and all of them were superficial. Whatever had inflicted Finch's wounds had to have a hell of lot of Power.

"You couldn't have saved Jessica," Finch said quietly. "But you could have if you had known _in time._" Slowly and carefully he moved to sit on the sofa across from Reese. The small man locked eyes with him and continued, "I have a list of people who are going to be in trouble—whether the victim or the perpetrator, I don't know. But it would give us a chance to stop bad things from happening to good people."

Reese studied the man in front of him. He saw the conviction in his eyes. There was sadness and guilt there, too, and a little desperation. Finally, the ex-op nodded. "Alright," he said quietly. Finch didn't smile, but he looked pleased.

Pulling a card from the inside of his jacket, he said, "Meet me at this address tomorrow at nine. You're welcome to stay in the hotel suite tonight." Without another word, he left the room.

Touching the still-glowing scar on his chest, Reese wondered exactly what it was that he was getting himself into.


	4. Chapter 4

Detective Joss Carter ruffled her feathers irritably as she finished off one of the many stacks of paperwork accumulated on her desk. Crime had been on the rise lately and there had been little time to get around to the desk-bound part of her job.

The Fallen and the Unknown had been crawling up from the Lower Realms in droves, causing corruption and death everywhere. Quickly, she glanced up across her desk at her partner. Her old partner had died suspiciously, and Lionel Fusco had been put in as a replacement. She'd heard some rumours about him that she didn't particularly like. After all, it was no rumour that his former partner had turned out to be an Unknown that had taken three Seraphim to take down.

How strange it was that back when she was in the service she had hardly ever seen any of the Fallen or the Unknown from either side, and yet when she had returned home and joined the police force, she started meeting them every other day. It made her wonder exactly who it was that started the wars in the first place. It certainly seemed like a good possibility that the denizens of the Lower Realms caused the wars in order to shift the attention away from themselves. There was a war going right within their own borders, but the warriors were being shipped elsewhere.

Fusco's phone rang, drawing Carter from her musings. "Detective Fusco," he answered. A frown creased his face. "Alright, we'll be right down." He hung up and looked at Carter. "They think another one of the Fallen's broken through and apparently he killed three people to celebrate."

"Moseltov," muttered Carter darkly, reaching for her pistol. "We been called down?"

"Yep." Fusco pulled on his coat and opened the door to the precinct for her.

"Sounds like fun," she said as she went out.

The scene looked like any other place where one of the Fallen had broken through; but for a few significant details. Carter's brow furrowed as she stared at the blast radius. She nudged Fusco with an elbow.

"Do you see the size of that thing? I've never seen one that big before."

"Very few people have," answered Detective Szymanski who had already been on the scene. "We did a little research when we saw it. Apparently, the only Fallen that cause blasts this big are the Supremacy.

Fusco quirked an eyebrow. "Those guys don't normally leave the Lower Realms, though."

"No, they don't," agreed Szymanski, "And that's what has me worried."

Carter went over to examine the three bodies that were lying face down a few yards away. Two were men, one was a woman and one of the men was laid out close to the woman but the other was several feet away. Upon examination, Carter found that the man that was farther away was Wingless. The other two were Seraphim of the third class.

What was truly strange was the blood pooled around the two men. Fallen normally left bloodless corpses. Fusco joined her with a wrinkled brow.

"He didn't drain them," he said in surprise. "Why kill three people and then take nothing from them?"

Carter shook her head slowly. "Maybe he didn't need anything else," she said quietly. Fusco looked at her with shocked eyes.

Normally, the Fallen took their energy from those of the Living. Most of the time, they drained it passively from those around them. However, sometimes they got greedy and stole it. This drained their victims dry and left them for homicide detectives to investigate later. The idea of a Fallen who didn't have to drain their energy was a frightening one because it meant that he already had the Power he needed. Only a Fallen who was extremely Powerful and Talented could transfer their energy from one Realm to the next.

Szymanski came over to join them and said, "We got ID on the vics. The two Seraphim were Sarah and Marshal Jennings. The Wingless guy is John Wilcox. The Jennings aren't even from around here. Marshal was poisoned by an Unknown he was working with about a year ago. Sarah went on the run shortly after that. You know what the Unknown's poison does to people. Wilcox was just walking past here, apparently on his way home from work."

Carter gently moved to brush Sarah's hair away from her neck. "Look at this," she said gesturing the other two detectives over. "That's not Fallen style." She pointed at the strangulation marks on the woman's neck. "The other two had their throats cut. That's one of the many ways we hear about the Fallen murdering people. Never by strangulation though. Sarah wasn't killed by the Fallen."

Fusco was nodding. "She was killed by her own husband. You think Wilcox heard what was going on and tried to help?" He walked over to the Wingless man and pointed at his face. "Look, he has a black eye."

"Sounds plausible," answered Carter. "Still doesn't explain why this Fallen killed the two men without draining them. Fallen don't usually want to draw attention to themselves—especially just after they've come through."

"Everything we have so far are theories," said Szymanski, "We really don't even know for sure that it was the Fallen that came through here that killed these people."

Fusco snorted. "I doubt it was just a coincidence."

"We'll know more once we get the lab results back. We can puzzle over this once we have more concrete evidence," said Carter with a sigh. "Until then, all we have to go on are theories."


	5. Chapter 5

_Sorry this took so long. It took me a long time to get it going-I must have re-written things like five times. ~II_

Upon waking the next morning, Reese panicked a little because he couldn't remember where he was. It took a moment to remember the event of the evening before. He hadn't really felt safe in a hotel suite that someone else had rented, but his desire to pick up and stay elsewhere was contradicted by a bone-deep exhaustion that had to have come from being Raised from three realms down to return to the Light Realm. Besides, he had no money to get another room. So he'd stayed where he was and in spite of feeling insecure, he'd slept better than he had in over a year. He'd had a sleep without nightmares for once.

As he stood by the window watching the sun rise, appreciating the color in the Light realm, there was a knock on the door. Instinctively he tensed for a fight before a voice called, "Room service!"

"I didn't order room service," Reese answered through the door.

"A gentleman last night left us instructions to bring it to you," responded the hotel worker. "He was short, walked with a limp, wore glasses." Reese hesitated for moment before drawing the door open enough to see the young man on the other side. Finally, Reese opened the door all the way to admit the bellhop and his trolley. There was also a bag draped over the boy's arm.

Once he had removed the lids from the dishes on the cart, he turned and held out the bag to Reese with a smile. "This was left for you as well," he said. Reese took it and thanked him. "Have a good day, sir." He turned and left the room, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Reese unzipped the bag and found what looked to be a rather expensive suit hung pristinely on a hanger. Reese wasn't quite sure how he felt about that, but he didn't have any money to buy clothes for himself right now, so he let it go.

The smell of the food on the trolley made his stomach rumble and he remembered that he couldn't actually remember the last time he'd eaten a proper meal. The breakfast was simple—scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage links and pancakes—but for someone who had only eaten the bland food of the Grey Realm for a year, it tasted like it had been made by the most talented chef in the world.

He later showered and shaved off the straggly beard he had grown in the suite's massive bathroom. In the mirror, he examined the mark embossed on his chest. As Finch had said it would, it had stopped glowing and now merely looked like an oddly shaped scar. He ran his fingers over it thoughtfully before pulling his shirt on.

By eight thirty he was dressed and looking at a reflection of himself that he hadn't seen in a long while. Experimentally, he spread his wings a little bit to look over his neglected feathers. They could have used some grooming themselves, but that would have to wait. He folded them back into his Soul and left the hotel.

The address on Finch's card was within easy walking distance. It was a bit cold out, but Reese enjoyed the feel of the sunlight on his shoulders. Even the nippy breeze ruffling his hair felt good.

Finch was sitting on a bench near their meeting place, a sleek black town car parked nearby. He turned toward John as he approached. "Good Morning, Mister Reese." He appraised Reese's new attire with a raised eyebrow. "I'm glad to see the suit fits. I had to make some guesses at a couple of the measurements."

"It fits very well, thank you," replied Reese, feeling slightly uncomfortable.

Finch stood up and they began walking, Reese adjusting his long stride to accommodate the shorter man's limp. They were headed towards a large stone building on the corner, surrounded by orange construction fencing. They entered from a door that was off the street and not visible to passers-by. Inside, books were strewn all over the tiled floor. It was dark but for the sunlight poking through the high windows. The whole place smelled of dust and had a distinctly lonely, abandoned feel to it.

"What is this place?" Reese asked.

"The decline of our civilization," answered Finch with a sardonic look over his shoulder. "The city started closing many of its libraries because they no longer had the money to fund them. The building was sold to a bank I control which subsequently announced bankruptcy. The property's in a sort of limbo now…Officially, it doesn't exist."

"A bit like you?" asked Reese as they climbed a large marble staircase. Part of Reese's Talent was reading people's lives—history, emotions, and memories—from their Soul emanations. Usually, the emanations worked sort of like an aura, surrounding the person from the outside. Finch's emanations were so internalized, though, that Reese hadn't been able to pick up more than a couple tiny scraps of emotion.

Finch turned and gave him a suspicious look. If he really did know "exactly everything" about Reese then he would know about Reese's Talent. "Mister Reese, I realize that there is a disparity between how much I know about you and how much you know about me," he hesitantly answered. "I know that you will be trying to close that gap as soon as possible, but I should warn you, I'm a _really _private person."

Reese almost smirked. Oh, this was going to be fun, wasn't it?

Finch unlocked a gate at the top of the stairs and led the way into a room that felt much less abandoned than the rest of the building. Past a cloudy glass partition sat a work station covered with computer monitors and papers. The wall to the right was covered with a bookshelf protected by metal latticework. The far wall was obscured by several bulletin boards covered with all kinds of pictures, articles, and other information. Strands of scarlet thread connected people and series of events together.

Reese wandered over to the boards to study them closer. Nearly all the threads ended with some sort of violent crime. He shook his head in amazement. "This is the list? _The _List?" Finch nodded.

"How do you get your information?" Reese asked curiously. Immediately, Finch's expression closed off.

"It's not important," was the clipped answer. Reese thought it probably was, but he decided not to push—at least for now.

Finch picked up a photograph and handed it to him. It was a young blonde girl with an easy smile on her face. "Her name is Theresa Whitaker," stated Finch. "Two years ago, her entire family was murdered. Though her body was never recovered, she was also presumed dead. Apparently, that was not a correct assumption."

"So she got away somehow? Do you think the people that killed her family found out and are after her again?"

Finch shook his head as he taped the photo to the glass partition. "The people that were responsible were caught. A Tracker on the police force was able to hunt down the hit man that killed them, and from there they were able to find out that he was hired by a real estate company that Mister Whitaker and his brother were involved with. They're all in jail now."

"That doesn't necessarily mean they aren't still after her."

Finch shook his head. "I don't think it's them." He handed over another photograph. "This was taken about two weeks ago from security footage at a bank. The bank was robbed shortly thereafter. All the security measures in the bank had been rendered useless and all the guards' and tellers' Talents and Powers had been temporarily disabled."

Reese looked at the photo, seeing the same blonde from the other picture, but older and lacking the spark of happiness in her eyes. She was standing at a counter working on a checkbook—or at least she appeared to be working on it. A man with dark hair several years her senior stood next to her, looking around cautiously.

"She probably has the Talent," Reese said, "And this guy with her is probably her partner and he provides the Power for her to do what she does."

Finch nodded agreement. "The gang that does the robberies seems to be all ex-military. From what I've been able to tell, they've successfully pulled off at least half a dozen robberies—possibly more—with Theresa's help."

"Try to find out who her partner is. I've got the feeling he'll be a lot easier to locate than Theresa. There's also a good chance that if we find him, we'll have found her since they're partners."

Reese threw his jacket over his shoulder and walked toward the exit.

"Mister Reese, where are you going in the meantime?" Finch called after him.

Reese gave a predatory smile over his shoulder. "I'm going to go make a friend on the police force."


	6. Chapter 6

Lionel Fusco was about ready to go into early retirement and take on a new identity in Fiji because his life was getting to be far too complicated for his tastes. Stills pulling him into his dirty business with him had been bad enough, but at least he'd had someone to cover for him. When it had been uncovered that Stills was an Unknown, Fusco had honestly been able to say that he'd had no idea. They'd let him off the hook, but transferred him to homicide. Now everyone here gave him suspicious looks and he wondered to himself how long it would take before his illicit activities would come back around to bite him in the ass.

Now it seemed like it was finally happening and all he could think about really was that he'd really wanted to buy Lee some new hockey gear and now he wasn't going to be able to.

One his way out of the precinct for lunch, he'd been jumped by a dark-winged seraph in a finely-cut suit. The man currently had him crushed face-first against an alley wall with his own gun pressed to the base of his skull. It would have been uncomfortable even if he had been Wingless. As it was, his wings were pinned to him and that made it ten times worse.

"Hello, Detective," purred a voice close to his ear and the seeming pleasantness in that voice made him fear it all the more.

"What do you want?" Fusco demanded, trying to sound as though he wasn't afraid. He was fairly sure it didn't work considering he heard a soft chuckle from the man behind him.

"I'm just here to offer you a little job, Lionel. No need to be so…confrontational about it. I thought maybe you could do me a favour since I'm not going to tell anyone that you've been working with HR."

"That's what this is about? You want a cut of HR money? Well, I got news for you—I haven't been working with HR since they found out Stills was and Unknown," Fusco snapped, that that would be enough to get the guy to leave him alone.

"I'm not after money, Detective," the voice whispered as the gun pressed a little harder into his neck. "I want you to get me all the files regarding those military gang robberies that have been going on the past few months. I also want anything you can find on the murder of Theresa Whitaker and her family."

"Why-?"

"Just do what I asked, Lionel, and I promise that no one will get hurt. Don't do anything stupid…I'll be watching."

The pressure holding him against the wall let up and Fusco released his pent-up breath. Before he could turn around, though, the voice behind him nearly gave him a heart attack.

"I'll be in touch, Lionel." Fusco could have sworn he that he heard a quiet snicker.

With a groan, he leaned his head onto his arm and wondered balefully what he was being dragged into now.


	7. Chapter 7

Finch had found Joey Durban easily, well before Reese returned from introducing himself to Detective Fusco. For quite some time, it seemed like the ex-soldier was about as likely to get tangled up in a bank robbery as the older lady he was escorting into the hotel he worked for. Reese sat keeping an eye on him as Finch rattled off Joey's history in his ear.

When he got off work, Reese followed him into town. He stopped to buy some groceries and then continued walking, though the address that Finch had found for him was quite a ways away. Reese raised an eyebrow when Joey turned into an apartment building; surreptitiously looking behind him to be sure he hadn't been followed. Reese was too skilled at blending in, however, and he didn't notice him.

Waiting long enough to be sure that Joey would be out of the doorway by now, Reese followed him in. Tracking had never been a really strong part of his Talent, but he had learned enough to be able to track short distances. This made it quite clear that Joey had entered in the apartment at the farthest end of the hallway, the door marked number nine.

Reese tapped his earpiece. "Finch?"

"Yes Mister Reese?"

"Joey just brought groceries to an apartment near where he works. This might be where Theresa lives. Can you pull up the information on it?"

"What's the address?" Reese told him and for a few seconds all he could hear was the soft tapping of computer keys. "There is no name on the apartment," said Finch's puzzled voice. "The landlord rented it out a little over a year ago, but there is no name on the lease and the contact number is disconnected."

"If Theresa is Talented enough to disable everyone's Talents and Powers within a bank, than—"

"She easily could have manipulated the landlord to lease the apartment to her with no questions asked," Finch finished for him. Reese nodded, forgetting that his employer couldn't see him.

Just then, Reese could hear a commotion from inside the apartment and a sudden scream of "Joey!" before there was a great crash of broken glass and the unmistakable keen that signified the presence of a revealed Unknown. There was a gunshot and then silence. All of this occurred within the space of a few seconds—quicker than Reese could reach the door and get in.

There was only a couple seconds before heavy footfalls came towards the door. Reese quickly rounded a corner to conceal himself in the basement stair well. Joey slammed out of the apartment and though his face outwardly held no expression, Reese could see the rage in his eyes and the swirling scarlet, red and orange in his churning aura. Underneath that, though, the colour was much more telling. It was the navy blue of fear.

-_Sorry for the cut-off there, but there will be another chapter soon! ~II_


	8. Chapter 8

"Finch, Theresa's been kidnapped by an Unknown. Joey looks like he might be going after her." Reese said as he followed Joey out of the building.

"An Unknown? How do you know?" Finch asked, incredulous.

"It had been revealed. I could hear it. I think that might be part of Theresa's Talent."

"I've never heard of Seraph revealing an Unknown by Talent alone. But then, there are a lot of things going on in the world today that no one has ever heard of before…" This last statement was said quietly, as though Finch was talking to himself rather than to Reese. Reese wondered what he meant.

"I'm following Joey to make sure he doesn't get killed. Could you possibly try to track down all the revealed Unknowns in the city? I'm fairly certain it was a Denizen."

"I think I can manage that," said Finch dryly.

"Thanks," Reese replied before turning off the call.

Reese didn't need to be a master Tracker to be able to trail Joey. The man had left a trail behind him that could've been followed blind. It lead to a rather seedy part of town where the shadows seemed oddly deep and watchful. Reese wondered absently if there were Half-beings in New York. There didn't used to be, but that didn't mean anything. The pests had a habit of spreading quicker than fleas.

Looking around to be sure no one was following (completely missing his stalker, of course), Joey went into an alley. Reese followed silently, using his Talent to cloak himself.

"You told me that you wouldn't touch her!" yelled Joey. "Come out and talk to me, bastards!" Seemingly from nowhere, a man melted into the alley from the shadows. He felt like a seraph of the second class, but that didn't necessarily mean anything if he was an Unknown. His black hair and black clothes added to the impression that he had just been formed from shadows. He shot an insincere smile at Joey that made the scar that ran over his right eye crinkle.

"I was promised that Theresa would be left out of this job," Joey hissed. Scarface raised an eyebrow sardonically.

"The plans changed. We needed her after all for this operation. Our previous intelligence was inaccurate. There are more sentinels guarding the place than we were told."

"Jumping into a sideways dimension for a package is like jumping off of a building because you dropped a penny," snapped Joey. "It's not worth Theresa's life."

Reese raised his eyebrows. A sideways dimension? Sideways dimensions could be incredibly dangerous without the right preparations. It usually took a sort of…carriage to get in and out of them without setting the whole dimension into collapse.

"So go with her. I'm sure you can protect her. When you get back, and the boss has his package, you can take her and go where ever you want and we'll never bother you again." Joey started to open his mouth to reply, but Scarface continued, "Or, you can stay here, and we'll take her anyways and she'll take her chances without you."

Joey looked about ready to punch the man in the face at this point, but through gritted teeth, he answered, "Fine. But when we get back, we're leaving. And if I see any of you again…You won't like it."

"You'll not need to worry about us ever again after this job," Scarface replied with a smile.

Reese dialed Finch and made sure that his cloak was enough to cover his voice.

"Finch, what do you know about sideways dimensions?" Reese asked when his employer answered the phone.

"I assume there's a reason you're asking," Finch replied.

"The gang is planning on making a jump to a sideways dimension for a raid. Joey was told that they didn't need Theresa for this job, but now they're dragging her along. Joey is going along to protect her on the promise that the gang won't bother either of them again."

"I've heard of sideways dimensions being used to store dangerous or valuable items, but they're heavily guarded—not to mention the fact that the slightest misstep can trigger the whole pocket to collapse in on itself. It would take a huge amount of resources to be able to locate the coordinates outside the Veil, let alone the right place in our own dimension to jump through…."

Just then, Reese had the impression of someone behind him before he felt the butt of a gun connect with his head. It wasn't enough to knock him unconscious, and he cursed his decision to keep his cloak a light one.

"Look what I found! Looks like we've got ourselves a spy," shouted the woman that had hit him while she dragged him out into the alley, painfully ripping the cloak away from him. She searched him and took both his guns away before shoving him in front of Scarface and Joey.

"Mister Reese, what's happening?" Finch's voice echoed nervously in his ear. Scarface frowned and reached out to pluck out the earpiece. He raised his eyebrows at the woman.

"Diane, you missed something," he said before dropping the bud on the ground and stepping on it. He turned back to Reese. Abruptly, Reese noticed more people melting from the shadows. Yep, definitely Unknowns. "So, who the hell are you?" Scarface asked.

Reese quickly glanced at Joey, noting that the man seemed uncomfortable in the presence of the Unknowns before trying to think of something to say that wouldn't get him killed. "Umm, concerned…third…party?"

"What should we do with him?" asked the woman called Diane in a voice that clearly indicated what she wanted to do. Scarface looked considering for a second, but before he said anything, Joey stepped forward.

"If we're going to be jumping into a sideways dimension, we're going to need all the Power we can get. We should take him with us."

Scarface nodded. "That is a smart plan. If everything goes as planned, you can leave him there once you've got what you came for." He nodded at Diane behind Reese and there was another hit to the base of his skull, and then darkness.


End file.
